The Bases of Design

by Walter Crane

"So careful of the type she seems,
So careless of the single life."

With the intellectual activity of Greece and the development of her power as a state, the archaic and purely typical period in her arts, while possessing wonderful harmony and unity, led to individual development of artists, and, assisted no doubt by the increase of writing and record, famous names are handed down: such as Ictinus, the architect of the Parthenon, and Phidias, its sculptor, whose name characterizes the finest period of Greek art.

The ancient myth of Dædalus seems to show that art was always a power among the ancient Greeks, and Dædalus, who seems to occupy an analogous position in southern mythology to that of Wayland Smith in the north, may have represented, or his name and fame covered, whole generations of artists and cunning craftsmen; following the tendency, still noticeable, by which great reputations absorb smaller ones, and in the course of time have attributed to them works not really belonging to them at all. The name becomes a convenient symbol for a whole period, school, or group of workmen.

One can understand in primitive times how important the artist-craftsmen must have been: the fashioner of weapons, the one learned in the mysteries of smelting metal, of working iron, bronze, brass and copper, gold and silver, and having the power of making things of beauty out of these, which became the revered or coveted treasures of temples and kings' houses.

The old stories of the early Greek painters Apelles and Protogenes show, too, at once the tendency towards myth-making, and the old love of talk about art, as well as the old and dearly-clung-to popular theory that the beauty of painting is measured by its illusive power; so that the realistic grapes of Apelles, which only deceived the birds, were supposed to be outdone by the naturalistic curtain of Protogenes, which took in the critics. This tradition seems still to linger in the minds of our scene-painters when they present us with those wonderful (and sometimes fearful) drop curtains of satin, festooned with tassels and cords of undreamed-of sumptuousness and mysterious mechanism.

The names and works of Praxiteles and of Myron are well known to students of antique sculpture, and these are but stars of greater magnitude among a host of others less distinguished, or less centralized in universal fame. Yet we only know the Venus of Melos from the island where she was discovered.

We know that the Greek vase painters frequently signed their designs, and this has considerably helped the historic criticism and classification of that interesting and beautiful province of Greek design, such as has been so ably done in the works of Miss Jane E. Harrison.

In the Byzantine and early mediæval period we again see a great development of typical symbolical and profoundly impressive art in architecture and decoration, but again names and individual artists are largely lost. We do not know, for instance, who were the designers of the splendid mosaics at Ravenna.

With the dawn of painting in Italy, however, in the thirteenth century arose a personal and individualized type of art in which names became of immense interest. This was no doubt fostered by the rivalry of the cities, each independent, under its own government; each municipality proud and anxious to vie in the splendour and beauty of art with its neighbouring municipality. This led to a wholesome emulation among artists and very fine results, since there were abundant opportunities in the great public monuments, council chambers, and churches for the highest exercise of the architect, the painter, and craftsman's art.

The ancient system of the master craftsman working with his pupils in his shop or studio prevailed. A man might learn the craft of painting from the beginning, the grinding of colours, the laying of grounds, the mixing of tints, drawing out cartoons, enlarging designs for wall-painting, the painting of ornamental framework, and decorative detail, and gesso work enrichment, and gilding, miniature painting and the decoration of books, altar-pieces, signs and shrines; perhaps embroidery and textile patterns, banners, the furniture of shows and pageants—all these might be carried on, perhaps under one master. The term painter was not then specialized to mean either house-painter or easel-picture painter. An apprentice might thoroughly and practically learn his trade in the ordinary sense of the word, but it would depend upon his personal capacity and quality whether he would become a master, whether his name would be inscribed on the scroll of fame to be a landmark for future historians of art.